Immigrant Punk
by LePipi
Summary: It's evaluation day at Adler's and Dean is feeling pretty anxious. Euro!Russian!Cas ; Bitchy;Concerned-about-his-weight!Dean  All in all it's just crack, with a side of boyfriends.
1. Chapter 1

It was evaluation day at Adler's company and Dean was feeling the ' I'm-gonna-get-fired-zies'.

He was sipping coffee outside with the secretary, Castiel, who was smoking his own rolled cigarette. Castiel was a slacker, a pain in the ass, on top of it all he was Russian, which Dean saw as an excuse for his rudeness and demeanor.

Still, though he put up with Dean and his constant bitching which was always a plus in his book.

"Aren't you worried about today, Cas?" –He tried to ask nonchalantly, but his voice stilled quivered.

"You Americans, and your worry..." –Castiel murmured with a chuckle. He always laid the 'you Americans' on Dean because he knew it pissed him off.

"You're probably first to go you know? You're always late, you're always arguing with Zachariah, and just, humor me, how the fuck do you answer the phone with your language?"-Dean was feeling pretty antsy about the whole day, so he saw in Castiel a good way to vent out his frustration.

"I tolk." –Castiel growled out and took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"You can barely talk." –Dean gave him his don't bullshit me face and took a sip from his scalding hot coffee.

"Tolk enough."-Castiel seemed to dismiss him with this statement.

"Whatever." –Dean glanced away from Castiel and his big oversized wool coat, to sip in quit.

"You want smoke?" –Castiel spoke after a while, his tone somewhat softer.

"What? I don't smoke, you know that." –Dean replied puzzled, chancing a glance back at Castiel's hand grasped in the offered cigarette.

"Relieve stress. Calm you." –Castiel tried explaining, though poorly. Even so, Dean felt a surprising urge to smile at the clumsy language, though stopped himself.

"Don't need it. Actually, give it to me." –Dean suddenly remembered something as he held out his hand to snatch the cigarette away from Castiel, along his lighter.

He took the cigarette between his lips, and for a second, examined the zippo and the engraved 'russian federation' written on it. He chuckled as he flicked it open to light up his bone.

However inexperienced he was, he inhaled sharply, coughing through the first drag.

"Damn."- He huffed, as he inhaled once, twice, and let the cigarette lay between his fingers, watching the gushing smoke trail slowly from his lips, into the stormy winter's sky.

"Why change of heart?" –Castiel asked somewhat tentatively, like he was flicking through an in-brain dictionary.

"Hell of an idiom you got there, Cas." –Dean huffed a chuckle as he took another burning deep drag.

"Answer." –Castiel deadpanned, his 'Russian assassin' glare on.

Dean huffed, yet again, feeling uncomfortable to answer.

"Smoking makes you thinner..." –Dean mumbled, chancing a glance to Castiel's wiry frame.

This seemed to surprise Castiel, which was very rare to see. Dean turned his gaze away from his, feeling slightly pathetic.

"Bullshit. Smoking kill muscle. Not fat. Bad for helth."-Castiel said calmly, slapping away Dean's cigarette and stubbing it away with his heavy boots.

"Hey!" –Dean exclaimed in an irksome manner, looking bewilderedly to the stubbed cigarette and Castiel's calm gaze.

"What the fuck dude? I've gave up fucking PIE for this life, and now I cant even smoke in peace? You see these Cas?" –Dean yelled as he grabbed onto his waist. –"These are called spare tires,Cas! And I have them! I have spare tires! – he grabbed onto his hips;- And you see these! THUNDER THIGHS! Yeah, that's right, it's thunder thighs, remember those words, because it's the best way to describe them! And the whole word for this! – he said as he gestured to his body;- Is fat! I am fat! And I will be getting fired, because of this! " –Dean's voice boomed across the empty parking lot filled with anger and frustration.

He panted, catching his breath, staring at Castiel, who looked as calm as ever.

"Love handles."

"What?" –Dean paused his anger to work through Castiel's words.

"Correct term." –Castiel explained as he stepped towards Dean, putting his hands on his shoulders. then sliding them down his chest, and to his stomach, earning a gasp from Dean.

He looked into Castiel's deep blue eyes from their proximity.

"You're not fat. Fat is body type. Not bad word. You should not give up pie for this. Not worth it. You're beautiful. Strong. " –Castiel spoke gravely, in a hushed manner as he stared unblinkingly into Dean's green eyes.

Dean was at a loss of words. He was so lost in the situation, he could just nod his head.

"I make dinner tonight. Make pie. For you. And you come." – Castiel said decisively back to his usual stumbly talk.

"Cas, I-I really shouldn't..." –Dean was back to normal, reminding himself that this was CAS he was talking to, and that he had a life, and that... wait a minute. No he didn't?

"Yes. You should. I pick you up at 8, at night. " –Castiel finished, taking one last drag and stubbing it out with his toes.

"Good luck at evaluation." –Were his last words before, he turned on his heel to enter the building.

"Hey, Cas!"

"Yes?"

"Hope you pass!" –Dean exclaimed through the parking lot's silence, and watched as he ever frowning face of Castiel blossomed in a grateful, polite smile.

Maybe today wasn't gonna be so bad after all...

**So uh, I've been watching a lot of youtube videos lately this is inspired by a particular one by barelypolitical, and to be honest I just wanted a bitchy/worried Dean x). I haven't been feeling inspired at all lately, but I promise that in the next few days I will update some of my stories.**

**Oh and this will probably be having a follow through. x)**

**Reviews are appreciated! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

After his after-evaluation-anxiety-attack Dean was feeling pretty stoked to have past, and still held his secure position is the company. In fact, he was feeling so good-natured that he decided to drop Cas a visit with a big box of donuts, see if he too past.

But, he was taken by surprise as he saw Castiel's desk empty, in front of Zachariah's office.

His desk was never one of a model employee. It didn't have the standard family photo of kids ( not that he had a family, as far Dean knew he lived alone), no it held the big Russian flag, a mess of papers and skins and scattered tobacco. It felt weird seeing the clean, empty desk.

Just then he realized that, this meant that Cas had gotten fired.

A sudden pang of guilt, anger and sadness overwhelmed him. He clung a hand to his chest, surprised by his own reaction, but much more surprised to realize the severity of the situation.

Cas didn't have a job anymore.

And with that came the realization that he wouldn't have anybody to bitch to, anybody to sit outside with on the freezing cold of the parking lot and share coffee with, nobody to insult and not get accused for harassment.

Nobody to brighten his day.

He stomped out of the office, out the building and to his car, his mind set on the direction's Cas had given him earlier on the day.

-/-

He parked outside a suspicious neighborhood. He stepped outside the safety of his car and took in his surroundings. Around were a mass of buildings, grey and covered with splash of graffiti. The air had an empty feeling to it, but never the less, outside the buildings were kids playing around, jump-rope and what not. It gave a sense of community to the place.

Feeling courageous, he walked towards the written building and made his way to the 5th floor, the highest and last one where it said Castiel resided.

-/-

Ringing on the bell, he realized that he'd just left work in the middle of a work day. What surprised him even more was that he didn't care.

The door opened with a crack and cling of chains. Castiel stood tall, and glaring, a cigarette hung loosely between his lips, his hair mussed more than usual, wearing nothing but a wife-beater and black boxers. Dean's breath hitched as he took in the sight of Castiel's not-at-all-skinny-twinkish form. He'd always imagined Castiel as lithe, but he could see all of the tight muscles rippling beneath, his veins popped out on his arms.

"You're early." –Castiel spoke in his usual emotionless voice, startling Dean away from his staring.

"I-uh, I brought donuts." –Dean spoke tentatively, holding out the previous bought box.

"You Americans and your addiction to sugar,"- Castiel chuckled as he held the door open as Dean stepped inside."- And action movies..."

Dean couldn't even feel pissed at Castiel's joke, he only felt grateful to be able to see him, to be inside his place, for once.

Through the little corridor came Castiel's living room, which wasn't a mess at all, to Dean's surprise. Yes, the couch had holes, and the covers were stained, yes the small table had cigarette burns, and was badly chipped, yes the wool rug was suspiciously trimmed, but everything seemed to look like someone before did it, guessing it was bought second hand. The big collection of books was neatly organized on the shelves, there was no dust on the table, the couch was made, surrounded with pillows.

Everything was put together in a mesh of very neutral, deep colours, that made Dean feel like he was in one of those foreign films, with bad acting.

"Wat are you thinking?" –Castiel startled Dean with his deep voice from behind him.

"Uh, Just, your place, it's, it's really nice, surprisingly so." –Dean laughed as he took a seat on the worn couch.

"Mother was very strict. Clean room all day. Good discipline. Stuck with me." –Castiel said thumping his chest, as in a 'in my heart' way, a gesture Dean had just then witnessed, smiling slightly.

"What about your dad? He in the army or something?" –Dean asked casually as he saw the strange looking sergeant's hat, not really remembering that this is potentially dangerous territory.

"Gone. Left mother, when first brother born." –Castiel grumbled as he sat down next to Dean, wearing a pair of sweatpants this time, placing the box of donuts on the table.

Dean hung his mouth open in horror, feeling terrible for what'd he'd just ask.

"I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked..."- Dean stammered hiw words, trying to find a suitable enough expression to express his regret.

"I trust you. It is fine." –Castiel responded with a dismissing wave of his hand, his eyes filled with amusement instead of pain, as Dean expected.

"You-you shouldn't say things like that..."- Dean felt himself blush as he downcast his eyes to his lap.

"Truth is to be spoken. Or so I've been tought." –Castiel chuckled from beside him.

"So, uh, what are you, what are you gonna do about work? How did this even happen? I am, we were drinking coffee this morning, and then at lunch I stop by, and you were gone, man? –Dean effectively changed the subject to more crucial matters.

Castiel let out a deep sigh and hunched over his knees, resting his elbows there.

"Zachariah star talking bullshit, I don't work, I too angry, too rude, can't talk properly, argue too much... I light up cigarette, to calm, he start yelling about smoking, I turn off cigarette on his tie, he goes crazy, angry, and then... I'm fired. Pick up stuff, go home, no last check." –Castiel explains vividly, slapping around his hands for effect.

Dean took in what was said, but couldn't really hold back that surge of surprise and anger within him.

"So... You were right, I was first to go." –Castiel chuckled humorlessly, staring down at his hands.

"Cas, I... You know I didn't mean those things, that was just... Me being an asshole is what it was, I really... I really didn't want you to go. I don't, even know, how I'm gonna continue working in that godforsaken place anymore... I'm sorry, for what it's worth." –Dean eagerly apologized to Castiel, feeling the guilt rise as bile in his throat.

Castiel slowly turned his head away from his hands and looked at Dean, with that staring-into-your-soul look. Dean gulped under the pressure he experienced there, but stared right back into those blue eyes.

"Thank you. For apologize. I forgive." –Castiel stumbled through his words, but Dean smiled in gratitude nevertheless.

"Beside, I already have new job." –Dean chocked on air, as he stared in astonishment at Castiel.

"What? Where?"

"Stanislav. Old friend. He work at café. I cook good. Make pie, cake. Pay good." –Castiel explained, adding a few gestures at 'cook' and 'good'.

"Wow, you're a fast one..."- Dean mumbled quietly.

"Café is close to Adler. You can come at pause. Food, coffee." –Castiel said casually, but Dean knew he said it for him.

"I will. I promise."

**So this is gonna get one more chapter, and it's gonna be smutty and lovey-dovey. :3 Also thank you for the reviews, main reason I updated this the next day! :D**

**Also quick trivia: the lighter that Cas has, the russian federation one, is actually one I have and it's really pretty, and I feel badass whenever I use it. x)**

**Also I'm not russian, but I'm from the Slavic bloodline, so our language is pretty similar, as is our culture, so I'm gonna drop a few Slavic references here and there. ;)**

**Reviews are appreciated. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean always imagined Castiel's home to be a dark place, filled with lots of Russian flags and Stalin posters and what not ( he wasn't very educated in Russian culture, forgive him ). He thought it to be untouchable. But now, being there, he was surprised at how at ease he felt.

Castiel was cooking the promised pie on the polished counter, kneading the dough with flour dusted hands. Dean sat nearby propped on the table, nursing a beer while looking over the progress he was making.

"I never learned how to cook, not really." –Dean voiced all of a sudden as he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

"Making dough is like making love." –Castiel surprised Dean with his words, resulting in a choke as he gulped down.

"First you mix the yeast with flower. Gentle, soft, until it builds up, and grows and becomes dough. Then you dive in, you rush your hands through it, over it, pushing and pulling lifting and smacking '- he spoke vividly as he smacked a hand roughly on the dough-' until it's all over, and the dough is fine and flat." –He ended his speech as he finally turned towards Dean. Whose cheeks were flushed beet red and mouth hung open, breath heaving.

"Well, uh, that's... That's good, I suppose..." –Dean was at a loss of words from the show Castiel had performed and decided to gulp on his beer in awkwardness.

"It suppose to teach you." –Castiel grumbled in that dead voice of his, leaning his back on the counter, crossing his arms in defiance.

"Well, uh, it thought me you know how to have sex, if that's worth something." –Dean replied with snark, to which Castiel responded with a frown.

"I cook with love. I don't have sex with love." –Castiel explained matter-of-factly, joining a hand gesture to his statement.

"Love... I don't think I even know what that means..." –Deam mumbled with a sad chuckle more to himself rather than to Castiel.

"You Americans and your love."- Castiel pulled his most hated catch-phrase with a headshake.

"Cas, don't-" –Dean wanted to stop Castiel's ranting over Americans, when he was stopped.

"I tell you what love is."- He raised his voice over Dean's and left his place in the counter, around the kitchen and to a shelf.

Dean watched his movements with curiosity awaiting Castiel's next surprise. He came back, trudging, something clutched firmly in his hand.

"See this." –He said as he stood in front of Dean, opening his hand to reveal a lighter, engraved with lots of swirls and a name. 'Castiel' stood out in the midst, written in cyrillic script.

"This was given to me by mother. I treasure this. Very important."- He said meaningfully , speaking with his eyes as they bore into Dean's.

"Love is importance. Meaning. You mean more, than this." –Castiel spoke softly as he stressed the zippo between his fingers.

Dean's mouth flew open at the spoken words, finding himself at a loss of words, once again.

"Cas, I-."

"You don't need to lie. I know." –Castiel nodded, as he switched his gaze away from Dean making to reduce their proximity, but Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking back towards himself.

"No you don't. Look, I-, if love is importance then I love you. I wouldn't come here in the middle of a work day, if you weren't important. Please, don't-, I might be a stupid American, but I-" –But his voice died as his mouth was taken by Castiel's lips, engrossing him in heat and want.

Taking Dean by surprise, he needed a second to realize what was going on, and once the realization that Castiel's lips were on him, he immediately moved to retaliate.

He ran his hand through the dark locks of Castiel, clutching the strands there, moving his other hand to brush at the stubbled cheek, feeling the rough needle press over his hand, and over his chin and cheeks as he pulled and kissed at Castiel's chapped lips.

Everything about Castiel was always new to him, his whole presence presented something unorthodox. In kind, the way he kissed felt very new to Dean. Or it just might be the knowing that this is Castiel he is kissing that was making this all very new, but the heat, and want, and edge of wildness to him brought up a surge of emotions he didn't know he possessed. And didn't realize they could be brought up in him.

Finally, Castiel pulled back, leaving Dean grateful for the catch of breath but reluctant to leave the heat. He watched with awe as the ever stoic Castiel gulped breath after breath, chest heaving under the wife-beater, lips slicked wet and swollen.

"Are you honest?" –Castiel huffed the question breathlessly.

"Yes. " –Dean sighed the words. And with that, Castiel was on him again, taking his mouth as he slipped his tongue between the heat there, making sure to lap at every available surface. Dean was content to play this battle of dominance, but he wanted to let Castiel win, wanted to feel that sheer dominance Castiel possessed, to finally see it and experience it.

Castiel trailed away from his mouth and down his raspy chin, left to his jaw line and down to his Adam's apple where he lapped and sucked and took his time in leaving a mark. Dean felt himself getting lost minute by minute, all rationality leaving him, baring him down to pure emotion and feel. He clutched blindly at Castiel's shoulders and hair, sighing moan after moan at every movement the other man made.

He felt nimble fingers shake as they worked the buttons of his shirt open. Deciding to help the other man, he only proved to be of more trouble, mixing the buttons up and slapping their hands. Dean chuckled at their incident, but Castiel growled with defiance, finally ripping open the shirt, making the buttons fly through the room in various directions.

"C-Cas?"- Dean asked bewilderedly.

"I-I am so sorry, Dean, I get carried away, I-"- But his apologetic ramblings were stopped by Dean's hungry mouth eager to continue where they'd stop. As Castiel pushed back the remnants of his shirt, Dean busied himself with Castiel's undershirt. He broke the kiss to pull it off through Castiel's head, and he just stopped. He stopped to admire the tight muscles rippling beneath. the popped veins down his groin, the dark hairs there.

He gulped as he finally looked up to Castiel's eyes seeing as he two eyes his body with hunger. Their eyes locked and ina burst of movement they were on each other again.

Kissing and lapping, Castiel's hands fumbled with Dean's zipper, whilst Dean pushed them aside, hurriedly taking his pants down, while Castiel slid out of his sweatpants.

Dean let out a soft moan upon seeing Castiel's manhood, relishing in the idea that he made that happen. And that soon, he was gonna feel it.

Before he even finished marveling, Castiel threw him further down the counter, pushing him further down, as he climbed on top of him.

" Я тебя люблю" –Castiel uttered the words with a sigh, and even though Dean didn't speak Russian, he understood.

"I love you" –Dean sighed the words as he cupped Castiel's awe struck face.

And with that Castiel sealed their lips once more as he buried his hips between Dean's spread legs, rutting against the flesh there.

Finally, Dean felt soft pressure against his entrance. He surprised even himself, at how easily he seemed to blossom around Castiel's cock, taking him in gladly, painlessly.

He watched Castiel's face above himself, as his eyes lids fluttered close, his mouth parting in a soft sigh.

It was fascinating to see the crude and rough Castiel soften so gradually, looking lost.

He wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders as the man dived in to kiss at Dean's spit slick lips.

He found bliss as he made love to Castiel. And he found himself realizing that for the first time ever, he was actually making love, not having sex with somebody. Somehow there was a very distinct difference between the two.

Like how he wished this would never end. How he realized that he was not seeking relief, that he sought connection. How he realized he didn't feel an itch of pain. No shame. Only love.

And as he felt Castiel hit his spot, he came with a sudden cry of ecstasy, dragging his nails across Castiel's shoulders and back.

Castiel followed suit, leaving a feeling of wet warmth inside of him, and for the first time, he didn't mind it.

He breathed heavily as he tried to catch his breath, as did Castiel, who still loomed over him, his weight supported on his forearms.

"Dean..."-Castiel sighed the words quietly, but Dean could see the whole meaning of it in his blue eyes.

"Yeah... Me too."-

Castiel smiled widely, lovingly, as he dipped down to peck at Dean's lips.

**So, I was reading through some fandom wank (sue me) and came across this guy's livejournal where he oh so eloquently explained how 'white women' or women in general couldn't write smut, nor gay fanfiction. In which he explains how he knows best because he is a gay man, so if he says that men are animals who only want sex that's final ( he actually says this). So this is a big fuck you to anybody that belittles smut. :) Hope you liked it!** **Sorry for the rant x) )**


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